I can't let this month go by without mentioning my daughter, April Lee. April died inside of me in 1996. She was to have been born April 30th. She should have miscarried but for some reason my body held on to her. As did my heart. In the end, she had to be surgically removed. That was terribly invasive and brutally painful emotionally. It caused a scar that has never quite healed. I lost more than my baby that day. A part of me left with her. I lost my light-hearted, care-free happiness and my innocence toward life and death. Life was suddenly very different. The days and weeks that followed were a maze of emotions. In addition to the expected grief and sadness, I felt lost, without direction. I was unsure what to do with myself. I was very angry this had happened to me and furious at my body for failing me and my baby. I felt very frustrated and out of control. I was not prepared for the depth of loss and all of this was so overwhelming. For me, time seemed to stand still while the rest of the world went on without me, without my baby. Physically I was suffering from postpartum depression and emotionally I was beginning the grieving process – a cruel combination. Reintegration was hard. Getting back into life was physically exhausting. Facing people, putting on a happy face, and trying to perform at work was stressful. I felt guilty for going on ahead and leaving my baby behind. Despite all my supportive relationships, my grief was still very lonely. I was the only person in the entire world that held that powerful bond with my unborn child. People forgot quickly, or at least they stopped talking about it. But, it is me that remembers the loss. It is me that remembers my baby died and left me empty inside. My best friend at the time (that's a whole other story), showed up at my door on the one-year anniversary of April's death. She handed me a bucket of dirt and two sticks. It was a forsythia bush. Forsythia bushes bloom bright yellow flowers every April. That was 17 years ago and the bush now takes up almost my entire back garden. As I write this it is covered it yellow buds. It's beautiful. It's a beautiful memorial.

When you loose a baby you are never the same again. You see kids that age and think...what would they be like. Part of you is always missing. Healing is difficult. It taught me to never take life forgranted
We do not know how long we have together with those we love.

Reply

Tanya

26/4/2014 04:05:26 pm

It is a sadness that people think get over it. You gave me great support and I am thankful for that.